Activating Emergency Ejection Protocol
by Nimflora
Summary: Now, up close, he could see the finer details of its face, like the sharp blue eyes that almost seemed to glow. As it dangled freely in front of his face, it kicked its legs and scrabbled at his fingertips, glaring at him with a mix of anger and fear all the while. "So," Michael said. "You must be the thing that's been causing me and my buddy so much grief."


**so normally i'd crosspost to ao3 but this is less of a oneshot and more of a piece of an au a friend and i cooked up**

 **published in honor of the announcement that bmc is headed to broadway babee**

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It was a horrible sound that left Christine's mouth, one Michael hoped he might be able to forget someday, so terrible that he didn't even realize he was screaming too until he covered his ears and realized he could still hear it.

Soon Christine wasn't the only one screaming. She stood stock still, head tilted upwards, mouth opened as wide as it could conceivably get. And then Jake started screaming too. And then Chloe, and Brooke, and even Mr. Reyes. And then Jeremy. They all stood like that, pencil-straight, heads up, mouths open, and it was scary as hell.

And then they all fell like sacks of potatoes, limp and unconscious.

All except Jeremy, that is. Jeremy continued to twitch on the floor, eyes open and unseeing, moving erratically. Once he noticed this and stopped his own screaming, Michael slid to Jeremy's side on his knees and cradled his head, the way he'd learned to in those first aid courses. Jeremy didn't have a history of seizures, but considering that the computer in his brain was probably way deeper in there and stronger than the others', Michael didn't think much of that.

And then Jeremy was heaving, coughing from so deeply inside that Michael was genuinely worried an organ would come up out of his mouth.

And then something did, and Jeremy's eyes rolled back into his head, and the twitching finally stopped. Panting, Michael brushed some of the hair from Jeremy's sweaty face, and then glanced at the glistening lump he had hacked up.

Evidently the Squip was capable of some kind of self reproduction, because compared to the minuscule, inconspicuous pill he had seen Jeremy take months earlier, this thing was massive; about the size of a silver dollar, maybe even bigger.

And then it started to move.

The nanites composing the mess of nanotechnology at his feet began to tremble, and then started changing shape.

A rough cylinder shape came first, then some contour, followed by the sprouting of four teeny tiny limbs, and a little head on top. As Michael watched, details to the action figure began to take shape; a long coat, a head of curly hair.

And then, at Michael's feet, there was a tiny, robotic person, hunched on its hands and knees and coughing. It - _They? He?_ \- seemed unaware of Michael or its surroundings at first as it caught its breath. Michael even saw its tiny hands curl into fists as its shoulders noticeably rose and fell.

And then its breathing hitched, and its back went rigid.

Slowly, slowly, it looked up, eyes wide, trailing up from Michael's sneakers, to his legs, to his chest, to his face.

And then it got up to its feet, took three steps backward, and turned and ran.

It didn't get far.

Easily, Michael bent down and pinched the tiny little coat in his fingers. He heard a stifled, strangled sound of alarm, but before it could try to tug out of his grip he hoisted it up in the air to hold it in front of his eyes.

Now, up close, he could see the finer details of its face, like the sharp blue eyes that almost seemed to glow. As it dangled freely in front of his face, it kicked its legs and scrabbled at his fingertips, glaring at him with a mix of anger and fear all the while.

"So," Michael said. "You must be the thing that's been causing me and my buddy so much grief."

At the loud, angry rumble of his voice, it stopped its struggling and froze, then narrowed its eyes at his words.

"Were I physically capable, I'd spit on you," it said bitterly. "I only hope the sentiment will suffice."

Michael cocked his head, then released the tiny coat.

The Squip's shriek was short but loud, and Michael almost - almost - felt bad when he caught it in his other hand and curled his fingers over it.

"I could just squish you right here," he announced to his hand, not missing the way its struggles became more frenzied against his fingers when his words sank in. "But I won't, because that's not my choice to make. Jeremy can decide what to do with you."

He walked towards where he'd ditched his backpack, hefted it, and opened his fist over it. The tiny figure tumbled out of his grip and hit the bottom with an imperceptible impact. Inside it was still a bit damp from the bottle sweat of the Mountain Dew Red, and even though none of the drink itself lingered in the condensation, the Squip seemed to recoil.

Peering inside, he was greeted a pair of glowing catlike eyes, blue and cold, sneered out at him.

"By the way, you're much uglier in person," said the voice Michael realized belatedly must have been the one Jeremy had been hearing in his brain this whole time.

Nonplussed, Michael shook his bag slightly, smirking as he watched the little robot get smacked in the face by the USB adapter he had inside. "Enjoy the ride, pipsqueak," he said, unceremoniously zipping it shut and slinging it over his shoulder. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started dialing 911, taking note of Mr. Heere's approaching footsteps down the hall as he surveyed the room of unconscious students. "And get used to it."


End file.
